Nafsi
stared at the half-cheetah, his cold eyes filled with anything but amusement.
The cheetah had been stressing the very same fact for over an hour, and Nafsi
was becoming . . . supremely annoyed. “Sire, you don’t seem to understand. The
rebellion is at the mouth of the den, practically. I’m only worried for your
safety.”

“I have
told you time and again not to worry. You should be worried for yourself. When
I kill you, I won’t have any worry about how safe you feel.”

The cheetah
seemed slightly taken aback by the statement. “Y—yes, sire. But the rebellion—”

“Moyo, I
gave you this job because you were reasonably intelligent. I may have killed
your father, but you did not inherit this job because of your miserable
half-breed status. You may not have his silly virtues, but all you are doing is
showing that I have made a mistake. I have been tolerant, but I will not be for
much longer. Now be silent, or I’ll make sure you’ll need to find a new tongue
to speak with.”

“Yes,
sire.”

Nafsi
returned his attention to the beautiful lionesses surrounding him in the den.
The den wasn’t Pride Rock. Nothing of the Pridelands remained from the time he
had razed it to the ground, save for his one shrine. It and several other kingdoms
were tiny things compared to he knew he could do with the power he constantly
felt flowing through him, more power than he had ever had when he was trapped
in that pathetic cub body with all of its limitations. The acts he had
committed as a cub had been nothing. Now that he had grown, the Pridelands were
nothing more than a barren wasteland. He had a new den, a better den, a den
completely of his making. And the lionesses surrounding him were his as well.
Utterly loyal, utterly beautiful, utterly happy. Whatever happy was. There were
no mild, subservient lionesses here. All had spirit, a thirst to please their
king. And he rewarded them; they were the few he actually bothered to please.
He kept them happy, he kept them close. He gave them little pleasures, such as
family nearby and well-fed, even allowed cubs to the ones who asked. The newest
one came up to him, nuzzled his thick, jet-black mane lovingly. He stroked her
gently as she looked up at him, her eyes worried.

“Are you
sure you will be fine, Naf—sire?”

“Nafsi to
you, pet. And of course. The others have faith, why can’t you?”

“I have
only been here a week, Nafsi.”

“Of course,
Ashki. But you must trust me.” Nafsi gave her a kiss as she rubbed against him,
purring. He had grown to like her, despite her short time here. She shared his
same delicious sense of humor, his lack of morals, his disrespect for weakness.
All she cared about was him. Nafsi smiled. He might even make her his true mate,
have her carry his son. He gave her another kiss and began to nuzzle her
passionately when he was interrupted.

“Sire,”
said Moyo, “they’re—”

“Would you
like the ears off as well, Moyo?”

“No, sire.
But they really are right there. Right below. They’re—” He was interrupted by a
deep, throaty voice from outside the den.

“The king
has been expecting—” The voice was cut off by a sudden gagging sound. A—thing
suddenly landed in the mouth of the den, a hideous thing, completely without
eyes or nose, its face almost entirely mouth. A lion rushed into the den after
it. Nafsi gently pushed Ashki away. The other lionesses cleared a path to
Nafsi. If the lion had looked, he would have seen them smiling.

“You made
it all the way here?” said Nafsi in
mock disbelief. “Oh, what will I ever
do?”

“Let’s see
how those words come out when you’re dead!” The lion charged Nafsi, knocking
him to the ground. He sank his claws into Nafsi’s chest and stomach, tearing
deep gashes. He landed blow after blow, Nafsi roaring on the ground in mock
pain. He lunged for Nafsi’s neck, tightening his grip on it. Ashki cried out
for Nafsi. Nafsi played along, thrashing, slowing down as he ran out of air. It
amused him to play along. He couldn’t even feel pain anymore. He finally was
still; his eyes which had been rolling around the den finally stopped. The lion
viciously tore out Nafsi’s throat, spitting it out onto the den floor. He
stepped back, looking at the king lying on the ground, Nafsi’s body riddled
with gashes from the fight. Ashki tried to lunge for the lion, but was stopped
by two other lionesses. The lion hung his head, sighing with relief. He
believed it was over. Nafsi stood up, the lion drawing in a gasp.

Nafsi
laughed. “So after killing me, what’s next?” His wounds began to heal over, the
lion staring in disbelief. He advanced on the lion, laughing, the lion too
scared to move. Nafsi casually swung his paw at the lion, sending him into the
wall at breakneck speed, almost breaking his back. He looked up at Nafsi in
horror.

“Oh, gods,”
the lion said.

Nafsi hit
the lion angrily across the den. “I am your god!”

The lion
cringed. “Oh, what have I done?”

Ashki sat
next to Nafsi, nuzzling him adoringly. Nafsi smiled. “Now, what to do with you?
Torture?” he asked Ashki.

“I’m
putting down a rebellion, of course.” The lion didn’t even notice the cords
around his legs until they began to drag him towards the back of the den. The
lion struggled madly.

“No,” he
moaned. “No, Chache needs me.”

“You should
have thought about that before starting anything. Picking the wrong side in a
rebellion is . . . unhealthy.” He led the lion through the back of the den,
emerging into a large chamber, completely empty. He dragged the lion in front
of him. He noticed Ashki sitting next to him, her eyes wide, hungering for
every detail. The lion was dragged to the mouth of the tunnel connecting the
den to the chamber, shivering. Nafsi laughed at his terror. “Why are you
scared? There’s not even anything in here.” The lion breathed a sigh of relief.

A massive,
monstrous thing suddenly leapt to the ground in front of the lion, shrieking a
horrible, high-pitched cry. Its entire body was black, even the tongue inside
its mouth. It was somewhat feline, but no cat ever had massive teeth like that,
jagged knives that could easily pierce even stone; or had a neck that was that
elongated; or folds of skin attached from its chest to it forelegs that
unveiled to reveal monstrous wings. As it landed, claws suddenly shot out of
its massive claws, dried blood covering the monster’s claws, paws, and muzzle.
The lion leapt back in horror, now free of the cords, but with no hope of
escaping at all.

“Of course,
she’s in here, but I know she wouldn’t ever do anything to you.” Nafsi walked
to the beast and put a paw to her cheek. The beast gave a small moan. “Harmless.
Unless, of course, you’ve done something foolish.” Nafsi smiled. “Like leading
a rebellion. Even a pathetic one like your own.” The beast’s claws began to
sink further into the ground. Nafsi’s smile grew wider at her anticipation.
“Feed.”

The beast
crouched down. The lion found his legs and turned to run into the den. The
beast leapt at the lion and grabbed his tail, swinging him around and into the
center of the chamber. Ashki watched it all, fascinated. “What’s she going to
do to him?”

Nafsi
laughed and sat down next to her, watching as the lion got to his feet and
backed away from the beast, obviously thinking he still had a possibility of
escape. “Yes, I’ve forgotten. This is your first time, isn’t it? She’ll kill
him of course. But she’ll take her time. I’m sure you’ve seen her loose.”

“Yes. It
was amazing.”

“Yes. How
she devours to no end, hunting and killing every living thing. Beautiful.” He
stopped to watch the beast hit the lion, knocking him onto his back. “But here,
she takes her time. Sadly, not with the females. But the males . . . No one
ever taught her not play with her food.”

The lion
swiped at the beast’s face, succeeding in doing nothing more than cutting open
his paw on one of the monster’s teeth. The beast pressed her forepaws against
the lion’s forelegs, slowly pushing them slowly apart and downward so they were
at equal height with his body, then suddenly snapped them to the ground as they
popped out of their sockets, the lion screaming. The hind legs had no sockets
to pop out of, instead breaking into compound fractures. The beast gave a low
cry, barely audible above the lion’s screams. She licked the lion, her large
tongue going the length of his body, her pleasure as obvious as the lion’s
pain. She held up a paw, all claws retracted save for one. She took that claw
and ran it down the center of the lion’s thrashing body, deep enough only to
tear open the lion’s pelt. She looked down at the lion’s writhing muscles in
fascination.

Nafsi
closed his eyes, feeling the beast’s pleasure. “Yes, precious. Feed.” The
monster buried her head into the lion’s body, the screams reaching a crescendo.
He knew how she would nearly kill him, how she would bring him to the brink of
death, only to give him her restorative and begin the process all over again
for as long as she pleased. The lion screamed on.

Nafsi woke
up, once again a cub. He did not wake up from the dream, which all other cubs
would have considered a nightmare. He woke up because it was morning. The dream
was nothing to him. It wasn’t the first like it. He had told his mother about
these dreams before. She had said they were visions of the future, of the
strong king he would become. Some, however, he didn’t need an explanation for.
He hadn’t grown up in all of his dreams. Some happened almost to the day—and
were always true, in every detail.

He
remembered what Taabu had said about dreams being fanciful, imaginative romps
around the mind. He’d never had any of those. To him, they were just that:
dreams, things that never happened. He was mildly amused by the thoughts of
what they would be like. But he normally never thought of them. He was more
concerned in trying to understand.

Nafsi was
obedient, but only to a point. His mother he almost always obeyed, completely
and without question. His father he obeyed just as well, although he was not
quite sure if it was for his pleasure or the pleasure of knowing he had pleased
his mother. But that was one thing he felt very rarely: the desire to please.
He obeyed because it was the only way he knew. He listened closely to his
father’s teachings, knowing that he would become much more than him, that he
would build enormously on whatever Jadi said to him. Uchu had taken him aside
and told him that.

And he knew
she was right. He could feel—something—flowing through him. It was power,
immense, untapped power, power that could only and would only grow. She had
told him everything about him that she knew. His growth, his power, his
unimaginable hatred and evil. She was right in every aspect.

Save for
one. Friendship.

Uchu was
not perfect. She may have been overcome by the pool, she may have even
reemerged from the pool after decades inside it, merging with it to become one
with the pool, but she still was not the pure, evil force that the pool was.
She still retained pieces of her former self, pieces that gave her weaknesses,
such as her love for Jadi. However small those were, they were still there. She
was not the perfect evil; the only thing that was that was even near was only
the pool. Despite her best attempts and spending countless hours in the pool,
Uchu failed. Imperfection cannot create perfection, only perfection can.
Perfection may create imperfection if it so desires, but it does not work the
other way.

Nafsi may
have been given years of thought by Uchu as she formed him slowly in her mind
then gave birth to him in only two months, and he may have been capable of
supreme evil, in every way, shape, and form, but he was still imperfect. He
felt nothing but anger, sadness, hate, passion, lust, but he also felt
loneliness. Uchu had attempted to drive it out of him, but had failed in the
end. Nafsi may have only had a sliver of loneliness, but he clung to it, as if
letting it go would kill him. He nurtured it, feeling what little glow of happiness
he ever would feel when he thought he found a friend. But ultimately he was
alone; no cub would come near him. He was an evil beast, the son of their
tyrant, and no one in their right mind would go to any cub that dangerous. He
also had the capacity for fear, but had never felt the emotion. He just wasn’t
afraid of anything.

But Nafsi
woke up from his dream, not thinking of any of this. He didn’t think of his
emotions, his life, any more than any other animal did. At least not when he
first woke up. But that was still his favorite hobby. Thinking. He spent hours
just thinking about what his father said, about what Taabu said. He may have
been told to regard everything she said as a lie, but he still questioned it.
He chose to disobey his parents when it came to her. She had been kind to him
and, according to everything his father had taught, had shown him the utmost
respect. But most of all, she loved him. Nafsi didn’t understand that emotion
at all. There were those animals he preferred, and those he didn’t. But he
never felt anything stronger than a preference toward them, not even his
parents. He didn’t even entirely understand hate, but he understood extreme
dislike very well. When he grew up, Uchu told him, he would learn everything
there was to know about hate.

But Nafsi
hadn’t grown. He hadn’t grown at all for at least a week. He had almost two full
years before he grew again, for the last time. He yawned and stretched out,
remembering what Taabu had always said when she saw him do that. Stretch and grow. She pitied him for
some reason. For several reasons, all of them unknown to him in their entirety.
He knew she pitied him for his size, which he was perfectly fine with. She
pitied him for his parents, whom he was perfectly fine with. She pitied him for
his loneliness, which he was not
perfectly fine with. And she did it all at her expense. Nafsi did not
understand martyrdom. He walked out to the edge of Pride Rock.

Akasare sat
there. Nafsi remembered him after carrying out Jadi’s order of the cheetah
extermination. He walked up to the top of Pride Rock, blood covering his muzzle
and paws, a wide smile on his face. Nafsi could tell from his wild eyes, his
unsheathed claws, his half-crazed half smile that he felt that he had still not
killed enough. Jadi had simply asked him, “Well?”

“It’s done,
sire. Not a single cheetah left. Save that pathetic kitten over there,” Akasare
had said, gesturing at Simo, whose head was hung in defeat. The scar that Jadi
had given him the day Nafsi was born looked horrible, having been reopened by
Jadi with painstaking accuracy. Nafsi himself sat by Jadi, watching in silence.
Akasare stared at Simo in disgust. It was no secret that he despised Simo for
his “foolish virtues.” Akasare smiled, however, memories cheering him up. “All
the cheetahs, and then some.”

“And then
some?” asked Jadi.

Akasare’s
smile grew wider. “You should know better than to send me hunting like that and
expect me not to restrain myself.” His eyes closed in sweet, bloody memory. “It
was wonderful, sire.”

“If you
have—”

“Sire, I
beg you, if you find any wrongness in my work today, kill me tomorrow.”

Jadi had
found nothing to criticize.

Akasare
turned as Nafsi walked up to him, the sun barely coming above the horizon.
“Good morning, sire. You’re coming with me this morning. Your father wanted to
sleep in again.”

Nafsi just
noted the fact. It made no difference to him who taught him his lesson. If
anything, he almost preferred Akasare. It was always a surprise with him. He
didn’t know if Akasare was going to teach him how to run a kingdom, or how to
fight, or simply teach him why he should feel like he should. Nafsi followed
him obediently down the ramp of Pride Rock and into the savannah. Akasare began
to speak, this time about how to rule, Nafsi paying almost no attention at
first, then none at all. He didn’t mean to, he simply was preoccupied. He was
thinking about his friends. Or rather, his lack of them.

The first
thing that came to his mind was Why? Why
don’t I have friends? Is it just that I haven’t really tried? That could be it.
How often am I with someone other than
adults? I’m never with the cubs. But
maybe I should try. Yes, that’s one
thing that I can do. But what about
Grandma? Maybe she’d know something that I don’t. Is she a friend? She is always nice to me. But why? In fact, what even is a friend? I mean, Akasare could be a
friend. But he isn’t. But what would make him one? I mean, he
respects me. But what’s different
between me and him and me and Grandma? Maybe it’s that I like Grandma more.
Or maybe . . . I respect Grandma, don’t I? Maybe that’s what’s needed. Respect, but from me, too. But why do I respect her? No, it’s not
really respect, or at least not all of it. It’s that I want to please her. But
why do I want to? Is there even a reason why? Or maybe it’s something like
Grandma and Tumai. They just do nice
things for each other. Is that all a
friendship needs? Just being nice, with some respect? But what if there isn’t—

“And that,
sire, is why there are impalas falling from the sky.”

“Huh?” said
Nafsi, jerking his head up to look at Akasare.

“Sire, have
you listened to a single thing I’ve said?”

“Um . . .
you said good morning.”

Akasare
gave one of his rare pleasant laughs. “Yes, I did say good morning.” He sighed.
“Alright, you don’t want to be here today, and neither do I. Alright, why don’t
you show me you’ve learned one thing today. Just one.”

“Like
what?”

“Well,
Maafa says you’re coming along nicely with that power of yours, whatever it is.
Show me that.”

“What do you
want to see?” asked Nafsi innocently.

“Hmm . . .”
Akasare’s mind swirled with possibilities. “That tree, right over there.” Nafsi
looked toward a vacant acacia, sitting in the middle of the savannah. “Can you
destroy it?” Akasare could barely keep the excitement out of his voice.

“Yeah, I
think so.”

Akasare
waited. “Well, anytime.”

“Oh, okay.”
Akasare turned back to the tree to see fire rippling up its limbs, the fire
suddenly quenched by black matter that sprang up from the ground moments later.
The black mass tightened, splintering the tree into infinitesimal pieces.
Akasare turn back to Nafsi, amazed.

“How did
you do that?” he asked greedily.

“I just . .
. did. It’s nothing difficult. But no one’s ever asked me for anything like
that before.”

“No . . .
no, they wouldn’t would they?” Akasare thought of the power he might have if he
knew how to do that. He shook the thought away almost immediately; he could
never learn it, and besides, he enjoyed his close-up, personal methods just
fine. “So, you’ve showed me you’ve learned something, what do you want to do?”

“I’ll make
it an order if it makes you feel better,” said Nafsi, remembering his father’s
“suggestions.”

Akasare
smiled. “Yes, sire. I needed to get back, anyway. The king had something for
me. Something about Pofu. He’ll probably want me back for that.”

“Okay.”
Nafsi sat down, waiting for Akasare to leave. When he felt Akasare was far
enough away, he began to work on idea that had suddenly sprang into his head.
There were all of these monsters in these dreams of his, and they all were
loyal to him. He remembered making them. But he hadn’t done anything like that.
But why not? asked a little voice in
his head. If he could make servants, he could make a friend. He conjured up a
small black puddle of something in front of him. He began to manipulate it with
his thoughts. A friend will need a head,
of course, and probably four legs—wait,
why four? Why does it even have to look like a cub? Let’s see, it’ll have .
. .

The thing
was hideous by any sane animal’s standards. Its reptilian skin stretched over
six legs, its body completely black. Each of the six legs ended in a flat foot,
with five toes spread around it at equal angles. In the thing’s case, calling
the tail a leg actually did make it a leg. Its scaly body somewhat resembled
that of a cub’s in the fact that it had a tail at one end and a head at the
other, but no cub ever had two legs on one side and three on the other, and
above all no cub had a head like that. It was shaped like an arrowhead, the
creature’s multifaceted, insect-like eyes flat against its head, its jaw
dropping like the bottom falling out of a box when it opened. Nafsi was very
proud of his creativity.

The thing
crawled into the den, claws coming out of its toes and digging into the
ceiling. The thing followed its orders and placed itself above Taabu, unnoticed
by anything in the den. It slowly retracted its claws. It fell from the ceiling
directly in front of Taabu’s head, between her and Tumai. Both of the lionesses
looked down at the thing in horror, too stunned to move. Taabu reacted first,
Tumai milliseconds later. Both of the lionesses stood up, screaming. Nafsi
romped into the den, laughing. The thing opened its mouth and, by way of hello,
let out a screech. Taabu, still screaming, hit it across the den, the other
lionesses scrambling to avoid it. Taabu screamed, “Get away!”

“Uh-huh. I
made it.” Nafsi scratched the top of its head. The creature relaxed, a long,
forked tongue lolling out. The lionesses made various noises of disgust.
“What’s wrong with it?”

“Nafsi,”
said Tumai, “it’s a monster!”

“But what
does it matter what it looks like?” asked Nafsi. “It’s my friend.”

“I’m sure
my son means servant,” said Uchu, striding into the den. She spotted the thing
easily. “My, it’s—unique.”

“I—I made
it, Mother,” said Nafsi, uncertain how she would react.

Uchu’s eyes
lit up. “Really? Amazing. What does it do?”

“Well—not a
whole lot. It’s just a friend.”

“Servant,
Nafsi,” said Uchu with a smile. “You have no friends. You have no equals. Now
send it away. It’s putting me off my lunch.”

“But
Mother—”

“You can
always make more later.”

“Mother—”
Nafsi stopped with a gasp as the thing was swallowed up in a pool of darkness,
screeching its protest. “No,” he whispered.

“And now
you can make another one when it suits you. Or one that actually has a specific
purpose. Wouldn’t you like that?” Nafsi bit his lip, fighting back tears. That
was his friend. He ran out of the den angrily. Uchu smiled. Maybe he’d actually
do something rash. She’d enjoy seeing what he did when really provoked. She
lied down in her place on the floor.

Tumai said
quietly what the rest of the den was thinking. “Well, now we got rid of both
monsters.” Only Taabu felt any sympathy.

Pofu walked
along on his morning walk, thinking over what was going on. Kovu was gone, Fujo
was gone. He was the last male left, save for Akasare and Jadi, and Akasare
didn’t really count. Pofu sighed. He should have done something. Anything. He
shouldn’t have let Fujo die. Yes, the kingdom was ultimately more prosperous
for it, but it was empty, completely devoid of happiness. And no one could
leave. He laughed bitterly at that. You could come in any time you like; you
could even say you were going to leave openly. But you could never, ever leave.
It wasn’t really like Pofu had anywhere else to go, anyway.

He suddenly
stopped, hearing voices. He began to turn away, when he suddenly realized he
recognized one. It was Taabu. “Just please, you have to leave now. If he finds you . . . I don’t know
what he’ll do.”

The next
voice was a deep, unpleasant, throaty rasp. “I’ve looked for you so long . . .”
Pofu began to walk toward the voices. “I can’t just leave you now.” There was a
gasp from the raspy-voiced animal. “There’s a lion behind you,” she whispered,
barely audible to Pofu’s amplified hearing.

“Run,”
breathed Taabu.

“Wait,”
said Pofu. “Don’t go.”

Taabu
turned to see him and said to the other lioness, “Wait, Huzuni. It’s okay.”

“But—Jadi—”

“It’s not
Jadi. It’s Pofu.”

“Is—is he
your son, too?”

“No. He’s
Nyota’s.”

“What are
you doing out here, your majesty?” asked Pofu.

Taabu gave
a small hmph of laughter at the
title. “I—I found my sister, Pofu. She came for me.”

“We
wondered why her visits just stopped,” rasped Huzuni. “We had no idea where she
was. We didn’t even know where the Pridelands are. And now we find out that
she’s been like this . . .”

Pofu knew
what she was talking about. The barrier that surrounded the Pridelands. The one
that drowned any animal that tried to leave in darkness. Not even birds could
escape it by flying over. They were dragged down to the ground and swallowed
up. No one escaped. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t imagine how it feels.”

“Huzuni,”
said Taabu, “you really do need to leave. Before someone comes.”

“I’ll bring
help,” said Huzuni.

“No!
Please, just promise me you’ll never do that! Please! I don’t want any more to
die!”

“We can
help. We’ll kill him, like Sibu.”

“No. No one
can kill him. No one can touch him. Look at this,” said Taabu, sticking her arm
across the barrier, having the darkness leap up and enclose it. Huzuni gave a
gasp of shock. “He’ll swallow you, just like that. Please, just stay away! Just
promise me you’ll stay away.”

“Taabu . .
.”

“Please! I
don’t want any of you to die.”

A tear slid
down Huzuni’s face. “I’ll never see you again, will I?”

“I’ll send
someone, as soon as you can come. I promise. Now please, leave! He’ll drag you
in here! He’ll enslave you like the rest of us!”

“He
wouldn’t . . .”

“He’s done
it before. He’ll take you, and rape you, and never let you go! Now please! Just
please leave! Do as your big sister asks for once!”

“Taabu . .
. goodbye, Taabu.” Taabu watched as her sister ran off into the savannah.

“Pofu . . .
when will it stop?” Taabu asked. He didn’t have an answer.

Fujo looked
down into the omniscio. Despite the name given to it, he just called it his
looking-pool. He didn’t see any reason to use complicated words for little
things like this. Just think where you wanted to look, and you could see it. He
didn’t want to look too much anymore. The only place he did look was home, and
all that was there was horrible desolation. He wondered how his son could have
turned like this. But, as his father pointed out to him, it didn’t pay to dwell
on his past mistakes. That only made for a miserable eternity.

Fujo wasn’t
alone. Next to him, looking down into the pool, was an Illuminati. When he
first heard the name, he thought it referred to those animals. He later learned
it didn’t. He still didn’t have a name for those animals, and he still didn’t
have the humility to ask. But an Illuminati, that was different. It was
difficult to not wonder about them. Just a hint about them and you wanted to
know more. They were just like Fujo. Fujo could have even been one. But
Illuminati were the elites of the mortals, as close to godhood as you could
get. They had lived good, wholesome lives, and had been rewarded with elevated
status. But it wasn’t easy; they had to be nearly flawless to even be
considered. The one sitting next to Fujo was actually one of the higher ranking
ones. He’d been considered for admittance into the ranks of the gods. Of
course, he didn’t get it. It wasn’t even remembered the last time that had
happened. But as this Illuminati put it, “It’s fine by me.”

Fujo didn’t
think of any of this when he was next to this Illuminati, though. He considered
Ilemi, the Illuminati, as a friend more than anything. And he needed a friend
now more than ever. He stared down at the omniscio, looking at his mother, his
poor Taabu, at Simo’s sorrow. But he couldn’t see Nafsi. He wasn’t allowed to.
The gods let no one except for the few privileged, such as the Illuminati next
to him. It was one of the things that made him the most bitter. He couldn’t
speak to Nafsi, he couldn’t do anything to help the cub. It infuriated him how
they had this “do-not-interfere” policy. If there wasn’t one, he may not have
had to look at the empty spot in the back of the den, remembering with regret
how Kiara would be arriving shortly. A thought crossed his mind. He turned to
the creature next to him. “Ilemi?”

“Hmm?”
asked Ilemi, a faint hint of amusement at the mention of his name. He was, like
Fujo, a lion. But no normal lion possessed a shining aura around his body. Some
Illuminati decided to display their aura more than others. Ilemi kept his
subdued, almost as if it wasn’t there.

“How can I
not worry about that? My own son is decimating the kingdom, and my brother is
killing animals without any thought at all. Jadi’s bad enough, but Taraju . . .
I never wanted him to go back to that. I thought he never would.”

“You know
that’s Akasare. I don’t know how you can forget that Taraju’s here.”

“But he’s
just like him . . . look at him, how he treats his lover.”

“Fujo,
don’t worry. Everything will be fine.”

“How can
you say something like that?” asked Fujo in disbelief.

Ilemi
smiled. “Trust me. They are
benevolent, no matter what you may think. They always make sure it turns out
okay.”

“I hope
so.”

There was a
pause where Ilemi looked over Fujo, wondering how to comfort him. “Come on,” he
finally said. “She’s going to be here soon. Don’t want to be late, do you?
Didn’t she ever teach you to be on time?”

“Yeah . . .
I guess so.” Fujo took one last look at his looking-water and walked away.

Simo
sighed. He sat outside the den, waiting to give the morning report. He wondered
why he even bothered. He had nothing.
Absolutely nothing. He had gone back after the massacre that had obliterated
everyone he knew. But it was worse than that. They weren’t all dead. Maafa and
Akasare hadn’t done a complete job. Maafa, maybe, but Akasare . . . he had just
gone from one cheetah to another, killing in a frenzy of bloodlust, not even
bothering to check for death. And Simo had gone back, after Jadi had given him
permission to go home, back to the slaughter, finding exactly what he didn’t
want to see. Bodies everywhere, torn and mutilated. And then, what he hadn’t
expected: cheetahs, live cheetahs, looking among the dead hopelessly for a live
loved one, while others cradled mates and cubs, weeping. Simo nearly vomited as
a cheetah with an odd number of limbs staggered about, half his face gone from
claws. The cheetah finally stopped and bent down, picking up the missing leg in
his mouth. The sobbing was quiet, but there. They couldn’t let their sorrow
show; any loud noises would be sure to bring unwanted others.

And then
they saw Simo. They limped to him, weeping, the first one embracing him. Some
stayed, clutching their lost loved ones close to their bodies. “Leave,” the one
who embraced him begged him. “Please, leave.” Others had told her she was a
fool to say that, that he was the last one left that was whole. “He’ll bring
them back again!” she said. “He’ll slip, and you know it! He won’t be able to
help it, but he’ll do it. We’re not safe with him here. He can’t see us.”

Simo was
devastated. He saw the horrible logic. He would slip. He knew he would. He was
unable to hide anything from Jadi. Jadi would find out, whether Simo told him
or not. Simo had to forget them, forget they even existed. But he pleaded with
them, showing Msasi as an example. There were those that honestly wanted him to
stay, some that truly loved him. But even they saw reason. Simo knew better
than to appeal to the ones who wept by their dead, the looks they gave him
showed they hated him utterly. The ultimatum was finally given: “You must leave
forever. And—and if you come back, you will die.”

So Simo
allowed a single tear to escape his eyes as he sat, waiting for Jadi. He had no
home, he had no family, he had no race. Jadi had taken it all away from him. He
hurriedly wiped the tear away. If Jadi saw him, his pain would only increase.
The thought of suicide crept continually into his mind. He had almost done it,
several times. And then he had stopped, right before he jumped or drowned
himself or cut open the underside of his foreleg. He couldn’t do it. He simply
couldn’t bring himself to do it.

There was
movement in the mouth of the den. Simo hurriedly straightened up, swallowing
back his tears. Uchu walked out of the den, Jadi not with her. He stared at her
in surprise. She walked over to him with a gentle, “Report.”

“Ma’am?”

She sat
before him, her eyes seeming to laugh. “I said, ‘report.’”

Simo’s mind
seemed to compute the command. “It’s—quiet today. Not too much . . .” His voice
trailed off as Uchu began to circle him. The wonderful smell of pheromones
began to waft up to his nostrils. “Not too much to report on,” he said firmly,
keeping his eyes looking straight at the Pridelands. “The antelopes are
complaining about not enough grass.” Her tail snaked across his neck as she
began to rub against him. “I tried to explain that you and Jadi don’t control
the weather, but they just wouldn’t—” His eyes snapped wide open as she kissed
his neck. “—listen . . .”

“I don’t
give a damn about antelopes,” she said, her voice barely suppressing her
emotion. She licked him again, passionately, the pheromones reaching new levels
in Simo’s brain.

Simo’s jaw
shivered. He wasn’t sure if it was out of emotion or fear. “Ma’am, please
stop,” he begged. “When Jadi comes out—”

“Jadi won’t
be coming out.” She pushed him to the ground, giving him another lick. “It’s
just me. And you.” She leaned close to his ear and whispered, “And I want it.”

Simo
swallowed. He desired her, and she knew it. He always had, since he had first
begun to see her every day. And he had never said a word, never shown a single
sign, because it would have been instant death, for Jadi was always right
there. But Jadi wasn’t here. She’s evil
Simo’s sanity protested. She’ll use you,
and discard you. There is a reason
she is doing this. “Ma’am—” Simo’s words were cut off as she pressed her
body to his, rubbing upward as she licked him passionately. And the
pheromones—oh, gods, the wonderful, wonderful smell she had, the smell that
overwhelmed him and choked off his logic. He hadn’t been this close to a female
in so long; none of the cheetahs wanted to mate with the king’s advisor. But
Uchu did. Hesitatingly at first, then in a sudden rush, he raised his head to
her neck, nuzzling it, kissing it. “Now,”
he whispered.

Uchu
smiled. “Just wait a little. Follow me. If Jadi sees . . .” She kissed him
again and got off him, her tail dragging across his body as she did so, finally
tilting his chin up to see her walking down the stairs of Pride Rock. He watched
her go for a second, chest heaving in anticipation, before he turned over and
followed her eagerly.

In the den
a figure stirred, getting up and coming out of the den. Jadi looked at the two
figures walking across the savannah. Uchu,
Uchu, Uchu.

Simo
followed her across the savannah, still not believing his luck. Her pheromones
continued to flood his mind; she was practically perfumed with them. Oh, he
would make love to her like no other. He would make her see that she wanted
him, not Jadi. He followed her into the spire that housed the pool. Yes, this
was it. Oh, gods, it would be wonderful.

Uchu
stopped and turned to him, with a smile. “Now.”

Simo leapt
toward her. “Oh, Uchu!”

Uchu
swatted him across the face, knocking him to the ground. She put himself on top
of him with a smile. “You’ve been a very bad boy, Simo.”

“Yes,” he
said. “Yes, I have.” He leaned up to kiss her again.

She whipped
her claws across her face. “How dare you even think of touching me,” she said
coldly. “I don’t know how I’m going to get the stench of your fur out of my
mouth.”

“Like
this,” said Simo. He leaned again to kiss her.

Her paw
found his throat and slammed his neck to the ground. “Shame on you, Simo.
Trying to make love to me. I can’t believe you even let yourself think of it.
Although I can’t blame you.” She leaned close to him. “You want me so much,
don’t you?”

“Oh, gods, yes!” Simo tried desperately to kiss her
nuzzle, to make love to her in any way he could. The pressure on his throat
increased. The effect of the pheromones began to lessen slightly. Uchu had
stopped trying to seduce him.

“And that’s
bad. Very bad. Almost as bad as keeping secrets. Jadi doesn’t like secrets. And
when Jadi isn’t happy, I most definitely am not.” He struggled to breathe. He
could, but it was a fight. “You should have never thought you could hide your
cheetah friends from us. You have no idea how delighted I was to do this for
Jadi. How happy I was to make your pathetic little hide suffer.” Simo felt his
body being slowly moved backwards by the paw on his throat. He looked behind
him to see the pool. He looked toward it, terrified. “This is what I wanted, Simo. More pleasure than you could ever give
me.” He began to struggle madly. His legs were spread out on both sides of her,
a testimony of the foolish way he had been lured here. His hind legs were
useless. But his forelegs he wrapped around her, sinking his claws into her
back. She gasped in pleasure and pain. “Yes, that’s it. Fight. Make it all the
more rewarding for me.”

“Uchu,” he
said, for some reason wasting his breath on the word, and then, on an even more
useless word, “please.”

She
laughed. He felt the top of his head become moist. “You’re right to beg. Oh,
what I have planned for you . . .” The dampness spread, covering his ears, his
forehead, his eyes, his mouth, his neck. He struggled madly as Uchu held him
underneath the surface of the pool. Then, slowly, he felt pain assault him as
the pool invaded his mind. He realized what Uchu planned to do. She wanted to
change him, to make him as she did Jadi, cruel and heartless. He fought
desperately. He could see her on top of him, chest heaving, partially from the
effort of holding him down and from tearing apart his mind, partially from the
sheer pleasure she received from the act and the pool. It wasn’t nice for Simo.
His mind was assailed, its layers torn apart as it attempted to do to him in a
few minutes what took Jadi nearly two years. His body shook violently, no
longer from trying to escape, but simply from the pain the pool forced upon
him. Gradually, the pain went away.

Simo
stopped moving, somehow breathing under the water of the pool. His breathing
slowed down to a regular pace. He felt the paw removed from his throat. He
wished it had stayed. Just having Uchu touch him was a blessing, something
which he most definitely didn’t deserve. He turned over and lifted his head out
of the water. It wasn’t wet; it was completely dry. He looked over at Uchu.
“Your majesty . . .”

Uchu still
breathed heavily, exhausted. “Well, I do love my work,” she said, looking him
up and down as if he was completely different. Her work was so much fun.
“Feel—better?”

Uchu
smiled. “That’s right. You bow to me—and only me. And Jadi,” she added, almost
as an afterthought. “But I think you have some things you need to fix, don’t
you? A few things you’ve been hiding from us?”

A horrible
smile crept across his face. “Yes, your majesty. Thank you for the privilege.”

Laka
watched her two cubs play happily. They may not have had their sister, but the
boy and girl still had each other. Laka sighed. They had lost so many family
members when Jadi had decided to exterminate them. But cheetahs still lived.
And they would keep living. Her two cubs were proof of that as they wrestled on
the ground. And they would grow up, and be married, and have cubs of their own.
They still didn’t cease to amaze her, with how they played, even with their
wounds that weren’t fully healed. Most cheetahs were much better; some were
completely healed, the others nearly healed. As healed as they would be. Many
of them had disabilities now, handicaps. Just as she had. She was unable to do
more than hobble. But she had let the wounds heal, trying to get them to heal
quickly. The cubs picked at their scabs, opening the wounds over and over. All
the mothers could do was stop them when they saw them doing it.

And Simo
was gone, Laka reflected sadly. He was exiled. She hadn’t wanted him to go; none
of them had. Well, most of them, anyway. There were still doubts about whether
or not he would have betrayed them. She knew how much he must have longed to
come back. She wanted to take him back. But they couldn’t. He could be the doom
of them all. Just a word about “my family” would have Jadi hunting for them. The
living conditions weren’t the best, either. They couldn’t hunt; they could be
seen. They relied completely on the generosity of others for food. They
couldn’t even go too far to go to the bathroom. If you went too far, the
perimeter nearly made you pass out from the stench.

But they
lived. They may have been hidden and forced to live in horrible conditions, but
they lived.

Laka
watched her cubs turn over and over, each trying to get on top and stay there.
Laka smiled. They were so happy, nearly oblivious to what horror they would
grow up in. They would never be free. Not while Jadi reigned. No animal would
be, save for the ones that bowed low to him, serving him with their everything.
They were the lowest scum the Pridelands had. But her cubs would never grow up
into that. They were sweet, goodhearted things. She loved them so much.

She looked
around the clearing, looking at the other families. Some had mates, some
didn’t. Laka’s was dead. Maafa had killed him, had brutally torn through his
stomach. He had died a slow, painful death. She looked around, seeing the happy
cubs that had all but forgotten the horrible slaughter, the youths that still
reflected on it sadly, and the adults, who brooded on their situation, many of
them seeming to have forgotten how to smile. And then her eyes landed on
something she didn’t expect to see. “Simo?” she whispered incredulously. It was
him. He was walking into the clearing. Almost immediately he was stopped by one
of the females.

“What are
you doing here?” she demanded. All or the adults turned to Simo. “We told you
to leave.”

“I—I
couldn’t help it,” he said, staring at the ground. “I couldn’t leave you.” He
looked up at her. “My family.” He passionately nuzzled her, the cheetah’s eyes
widening. She had mated with Simo just two or three times; she didn’t expect
this. Simo brought his mouth to the ear of the cheetah, whispering words that
Laka didn’t hear: “My traitorous family.” His mouth suddenly closed around the
cheetah’s neck. Laka gasped as Simo tore out the cheetah’s throat. The cheetah
collapsed to the ground. Several cheetahs rushed at Simo. He fought back,
slashing with his claws as the cheetahs came, making them fall to the ground,
disabling them if not killing them in one or two swift strokes. The cheetahs
were injured, Simo was whole. They were no match as they came upon him one by
one, falling under his claws. There finally were no more that came. They all
lied on the ground, dead or injured. The injured didn’t stay that way long.
Laka watched in horror as Simo bent over them and carefully tore open their
stomachs, letting the acid eat away at their insides, as Laka’s mate had died.
Horrible screams were heard from the mouths of the dying. And Simo did yet
another thing that Laka would have never believed possible.

He smiled.

Laka
watched in horror as Simo watched them die. Another cheetah, unable to walk a
decent speed, like Laka, began to limp toward Simo, obviously intending to kill
him. She fell with a thud and a groan. Simo looked away from the death he had
created to the injured cheetah. His smile grew even wider. He walked toward
her. The cheetah feebly swung a leg at him. Simo caught it in his mouth and
pressed down. Laka felt her blood chill as the bone crunched. The cheetah
screamed.Simo bit into her throat, as
he had done to the first cheetah, tearing it out.

“Mommy!”
yelled a cub. Simo’s eyes turned to the cub. The cub froze. Simo advanced
toward his next target, the cub and his sisters. One fell with each swipe of
Simo’s paws. Laka was horrified. She looked down at her cubs. They were
watching the horrible scene, rooted to the spot with fear.

“Run,” she
whispered. They ran, screaming. Simo looked toward them and easily caught up. He
snapped his jaws twice. Her cubs had their backs broken. “No!” Laka screamed.
Simo looked up at her, advancing on her now. “Simo, don’t do this!” she begged.
“Don’t do this!”

He caught
her throat with a paw. “How dare you defy your king! And Queen Uchu! How dare
you!”

“They want
us all dead!”

“And you
should go to them and beg them to kill you!”

“Simo—”
Simo threw her to the ground. He slashed a brutal paw through her stomach. She
screamed in pain. The agony was overwhelming. She rolled on the ground, vaguely
aware of Simo going onto the next cheetah, leaving her to die. Simo paid no
attention to her again. He went to each cheetah, killing them, forcing them to
suffer, murdering cubs in front of mothers. He delighted in their pain. These
traitors deserved every bit of the pain that they suffered. He had been given
the opportunity to show Uchu who he really did give his loyalties to. He would
not let her down.

He sliced
open the throat of the last adult. He looked around, making sure they were all
dead. And there it was: a cub that he had somehow missed, pushing his father
frantically, trying to get him to wake. Before the cub knew it, his body was
crushed under Simo’s forepaws, beaten into the ground ruthlessly. Simo looked
down at the cub with satisfaction. There were no more traitors to the kingdom
here. And then, instantaneously, his mind seemed to snap. It suddenly saw the
carnage in a completely new light. In a horrified light. He looked at the
massacre. Bodies lied over the area of the clearing, seeming to cover every
inch. Simo looked at them, aghast.

“What have
I done?” he whispered. The pleasure he had felt at killing them had long since
gone. And how he had believed the things he had said to that cheetah. How Uchu
and Jadi should be obeyed as if they were gods . . . Simo was revolted. I am a monster.

A lithe,
black figure walked into the clearing, looking over the slaughter with
approval. “It’s decent. By my standards. Probably wonderful for yours.” Uchu
looked away from the bodies and up at Simo. “You should be proud.” She smiled.
“Doesn’t t feel so good?”

“What have
you done to me?” he whispered.

“I made you
see the way things are, Simo. And wasn’t it wonderful while it lasted?”

Uchu put a
paw to his face. Simo felt no pleasure from it. He was disgusted with what he
had done. It consumed his mind. “I murdered them,” he said, his voice dead.
“All of them.”

“And it was
so much fun to listen to.” Uchu removed the paw, and began to walk away,
looking at the bodies.

“I don’t
deserve to live,” Simo said quietly.

“By whose
opinion? What you’ve created is a work of art.”

“It was
butchery.” Simo shook his head. “I killed every one of them,” he said, his
voice choked with tears. “Oh, gods, it feels so horrible.” He looked up at
Uchu. He wanted to ask her to finish him, to label him as a traitor with the
rest of his kind, but couldn’t.

“You wish
you were dead,” she said matter-of-factly. “You don’t know how you’ll live with
yourself.”

“I don’t
want to die,” he said softly. “But I don’t want to live.”

She looked
back at him with a smile. “Well, what are you to do, then?” She began to walk
out of the clearing.

Simo
watched her go. The horror mounted in his stomach, the pain that crept through
his mind unbearable. He was nauseated. He watched Uchu go, then suddenly cried
out, “Wait!” Uchu stopped and turned. Simo didn’t want to say it. He hesitated.
Then, finally, softly, “Do it again.”

Uchu smiled
and began to walk back toward him. “What?”

“Put it
back. Please. Just take away the pain.” Uchu stopped next to him, her smile
wide. “I can’t take the guilt.”

“You want
me to make you loyal again? So wonderfully unwavering?”

Simo looked
away, closing his eyes. “Yes.”

Uchu nearly
laughed at the pain he went through. “No, no. I want to hear you say it. Now.
How you love me. How you want me. How you believe that I am your goddess.”

Her smile
would have gone off her face if it became much larger. “How much?”

“So much. I
want you desperately.” Anything to end the pain. Anything.

“Bow to
your goddess. Don’t you have any respect?”

Simo bowed
to her, his head nearly touching the ground. He touched his lips to her paws. “I
love—I love my queen,” he said miserably.

Uchu’s
smile split to show her sharp, dangerous teeth. “Rise.” Simo brought his head
up. “And so many of you think I’m this horrible beast.” She sighed
theatrically. “I’m not the horrible, uncaring animal that so many of you think
me to be. I reward loyalty.” She put a paw to the side of his face.

Simo closed
his eyes. Mother . . . Msasi . . . Father . . . forgive me. I can’t take this pain. He felt Uchu
take hold of his mind, a hold he knew would never be released. And he never
wanted it to be. He opened his eyes, a different cheetah. He smiled. The pain
was gone. In its place were only sheer ecstasy and a lust to serve his queen in
any and every way possible. He resisted the overwhelming temptation to kiss her
for what she had done, and to kiss her, for she was what he wanted. He bowed
low once more, touching his lips to her paws joyously. “Thank you, your
majesty.”